Allison POV:
The metal chair connected with a sickening thud against Gabriel' s head. He cried out, stumbling back, his hands flying up to his temple. Blood immediately welled up between his fingers, a dark, viscous stain against his expensive suit.
A strange, exhilarating rush coursed through my veins. It wasn' t triumph, not exactly. It was a profound release. A decade and a half of suppressed anger, of silent tears, of swallowed pride, all unleashed in that single, violent act. My chest felt lighter, my mind clearer than it had been in years. The world, which had been muted and grey, suddenly sharpened into vivid, brutal clarity.
Gabriel stared at me, his eyes wide with shock, blood dripping down his face. Before he could react, Kaia burst into the waiting room, her face pale with concern. She took in the scene-Gabriel, bleeding; me, still clutching the chair, a feral glint in my eyes.
"Gabriel! Oh my God!" she shrieked, rushing to his side, her voice laced with manufactured horror. She pressed a handkerchief to his wound, her eyes darting to me with undisguised fear. "You… you crazy bitch! How could you?!"
Gabriel winced, pushing her hand away slightly. "Kaia, stop. It' s fine." He looked at me, a strange, bewildered expression on his face. "Allison… what was that for?"
I let the chair clatter to the ground. My hands were still shaking, but the tremor was of adrenaline, not fear. "That," I said, my voice hoarse but steady, "was for everything. For Bea. For Arnulfo. For our child. For every lie, every betrayal, every single moment of pain you inflicted on my family."
Kaia started again, her voice rising in a shrill whine. "She' s completely insane, Gabriel! Look at her! She needs to be locked up! She just assaulted you! And she hurt little Bea, I saw her, she' s always so aggressive…"
"Kaia!" Gabriel snapped, his voice sharp, cutting her off midsentence. His gaze was still fixed on me, a flicker of something resembling confusion, perhaps even a hint of fear, in his eyes. He didn' t seem to care about Kaia' s accusations. He was fixated on my transformation.
He wiped the blood from his temple, wincing slightly. "I' m fine, Allison. Really. You can… you can take your anger out. I understand." But his words lacked conviction. He was trying to be magnanimous, but his eyes betrayed his shock.
Kaia continued to fuss, her voice a relentless buzzing. "But Gabriel, your head! She could have killed you! This is what happens when you let her walk all over you. She' s always been so jealous, so possessive…"
"That' s enough, Kaia!" Gabriel' s voice was sharper this time, laced with genuine irritation. He pushed her hand away more forcefully. He looked at her, truly looked at her, and a flicker of annoyance crossed his face.
He' s tired of her. The thought was a small, cold comfort. He didn' t want the hysterical wife, and he didn' t want the whining mistress either. He just wanted… convenience.
Gabriel' s mind drifted back. He remembered the old Allison. The one who would rage and scream, but never truly strike. The one who would grab a kitchen knife in a fit of despair, but always drop it before anyone got hurt. That Allison, the one he had so carefully broken, had always softened. She would always come back, begging for him to return, to choose her, to fix them. He remembered her tear-streaked face, her pleas.
"Gabriel, please come home. I miss you. Our family needs you."
He had dismissed it then, drunk on the intoxicating thrill of having two women, two lives. He' d loved the power, the control, the feeling of being desired by both the wife who built an empire with him and the young ingenue who worshipped his every word. He had dismissed Allison' s pain as dramatics, her pleas as weakness. He had believed she would always be there, a constant in his chaotic, self-indulgent world.
Now, as the throbbing pain in his head mingled with a strange, unfamiliar ache in his chest, he realized how wrong he had been. The new Allison wasn't pleading. She was breaking things. And she wasn't coming back.
He reached out, almost instinctively, for her hand. For the comfort, the familiar solace that only Allison could provide. "Allison…" he murmured, his voice cracking.
But she was already gone. Disappeared from the waiting room. The space where she had stood felt cold and empty. A sudden, terrifying void opened up inside him. A sense of loneliness so profound it made him physically ache. He had always taken her presence for granted, her steady, unwavering devotion. Now, it was utterly, completely gone. And for the first time, he felt truly alone.
Kaia tugged at his arm. "Gabriel, are you listening to me? We need to call the police! She' s dangerous!"
He shook her off, his gaze still fixed on the empty doorway. "No, Kaia. It' s fine."
"Fine?! You' re bleeding, Gabriel! She needs to pay for this!" Kaia whined, her eyes welling up with tears.
He sighed, running a hand over his face. He was tired. So tired of her constant drama, her manufactured vulnerability. He patted her shoulder, a perfunctory, empty gesture. "Just… let it go, Kaia. She' s not worth it."
Not worth it. He thought about Allison, her sharp mind, her fierce loyalty, her quiet strength that had always been the backbone of their business. He thought about Kaia, young and pretty, yes, but endlessly demanding, endlessly insecure. He had convinced himself that Allison was old news, that he deserved someone fresh, someone who looked at him with innocent wonder. He had convinced himself that Kaia was his second chance at youth, at passion. He had convinced himself he was simply "mentoring" her, helping her grow. He even had a convoluted plan to return to Allison once Kaia had his child, thereby securing a perfect-looking family while still having his youthful adventure. He knew, deep down, it was selfish. But he was Gabriel Perkins. He was entitled.
He nodded, reassuring Kaia, pulling her close. "Come on. Let' s get out of here."
They left, Gabriel still limping slightly, Kaia still clinging to him. They went back to their gilded cage, the illusion of their perfect life.
Gabriel returned to his mansion later that night, expecting the usual comfort, the usual order. The house was silent. Empty. The kitchen, usually smelling of Allison' s home cooking, was cold. The laundry basket was overflowing. His favorite shirt wasn' t pressed. His files were not neatly stacked on his desk.
"Allison?" he called out, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. No answer.
He tried her phone. Straight to voicemail.
Panic began to set in. He rushed to their bedroom. Her closet was half-empty. Her side of the dresser was bare. The expensive jewelry, the family heirlooms, all gone.
He grabbed his phone, his fingers trembling, and typed out a furious text. Allison, where the hell are you?! This isn't funny! Get back here NOW!
No reply.
He tried calling his parents, people he hadn't spoken to in months, maybe years, since they disapproved of Kaia. His mother answered, her voice cold. "Gabriel. What do you want?"
"Mom, have you heard from Allison? Is she there? Is Arnulfo there?" His voice was desperate.
"Allison? Why would Allison be here? After everything you've done to her, to Arnulfo? You have some nerve, Gabriel." His mother's voice was laced with an ice that chilled him to the bone. "No, she's not here. And good for her." She hung up.
A cold dread seeped into him. This wasn't a game. Allison wasn't coming back. His perfect life, the one he had so carefully constructed, was crumbling. He drove frantically to Arnulfo's house, the house by the beach where he knew Allison had been staying. The lights were off. The windows were dark. The house was empty.
